The leftovers
by PlayingtheBone
Summary: Any inspired bits that I couldn't write proper. Please review, give advice, or take, if you feel that any of these are of plausible good use.  Thanks muchly.
1. Newbird

Summary: Rachel Roth, disillusioned, distempered, and highly volatile, appeared in the bathroom of one Richard Grayson of Wayne Manor on a warm, sunny day. Chaos ensued.

Rachel Roth had one rule.

Move fast, stay out of trouble, and keep your head down.

Don't stay in one place for too long, and leave no trace behind.

Save worries for later, and focus on getting from point A to point B.

She climbed up the giant tree next to the big manor gate, and vaulted over the barrier neatly.

Almost too late, she saw a video camera in the general direction she had been going, and she ducked in cover, before watching the sleek black limo pull out of the driveway, bearing, she knew, a young man (attractive), an older one (attractive as well, though she was loath to admit it), and one overwhelmed manservant.

As soon as they left, she darted off, keeping her hood up, and staying to shadows and nooks so as to avoid detection if possible.

She picked the lock as quickly as her shaking hands would allow, then slipped inside, heading straight down a hallway in search of food.

Having located the massive quantities of sustenance she required, she then went in search of medical supplies, which, she knew from experience, tended to be in bathrooms.

And then, as she was reaching for a cabinet, she made a mistake.

She fell.

The fall in itself was not particularly hard, or dramatic.

It was neither comedic nor long winded, but brutally fast.

She slipped on the slick gleaming floor and hit her chin hard on the marble countertop, snapping her head upward.

Arms flailing, she fell again, backwards, and with a resounding _crack_, slammed up against a claw-footed tub, finally coming to a thud against the cold ground.

Where she had hit her head, there was red, and then black.

So, as you can see, not a particularly good body of work. It was inspired theme, but not well planned, and I don't think it's something I'll continue unless given a better way to introduce it and a further plotline besides this. I hope that if you enjoy this, you will take liberties on it yourself, or PM me with suggestions on how I could continue this. it would much be appreciated.

This contains: Rachel Roth as a homeless, independent young woman with severe trust issues and terrible communication skills, who comes into the care of Bruce Wayne after a botched attempt to steal necessary supplies. Obvious tension between herself and Richard Grayson, due also to her killer poker face and difficulty expressing herself (think X-23 or comics Raven) AU, no powers-verse.


	2. Hell in a Handbasket

Hell in a Handbasket, as inspired by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's excellent novel "Good Omens" featuring Death.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sandman. Or the Teen Titans. Or Good Omens.

Summary: Teen Titans- meet the end of the world, and the four horsemen with it.

* * *

They were groomed. Handpicked for the sole purpose of destroying the world however they saw fit.

Joyce was the first that was found.

She had been fighting a much larger boy, and was very well holding her own.

She had looked up, wiped the blood off her lip, and had given a feral grin.

And they fed her anger and cleverness and violence and sadism, but they never knew.

A good psychopath knows how to conceal, deceive, destroy.

The next was Cyrus, a pyro.

He'd been found much later, idly burning his homework over a trashcan-fire.

Too many piercings, a chest piece tattoo, a hooded sweatshirt.

And the fire he loved so much burned in his soul as he inhaled that good old smoke, blew it in the direction of a passing jogger.

There wasn't much needed for him.

He was complete.

The final was found whilst pressing her fingers up against the back of her throat.

It burned when she finally threw up, holding her pale bony stomach.

Maurice stared down as she flushed the toilet.

Her lunch, greasy as hell, disappeared as soon as it was consumed.

Her eyes were hollow when she looked up, but that could be easily remedied.

She became such a figure, a bit gaunt, but a poster child for glamour and teenage girls.

And Death, well… Death had no part in it.

She was a servant, cleaning up the empty spirits and sending them wherever the heck it was spirits went to.

She'd always expected there was nothing, but how would she know?

But, she watched, looking down as her companions, the orchestrators, swaggered into Jump City, heading towards the ones who had thwarted her for so long.

They were here.

And she'd always hoped…when it happened, that the five heroes and their allies would be the ones to postpone the end.

The end of all.

Of time.

* * *

Didn't think much of this one. Wan'nt much fun to write, and definitely don't know what to go on from here.

Basically, this was a brainchild I had, inspired by the four horsemen of biblical fame. Death, the narrator of sorts, watches as the three: famine, war, and pollution, wreak havoc in Jump City, as the Teen Titans attempt to keep order.


	3. The Witness Protection Program

Summary: Beatrice McPherson, young college intern of the Jump City Post, and part-time blogger, was put in the witness protection program. Not that one. The other one.

The Titans are scary.

Sure, I'm older than most of them by a year or two, I'm guessing (not that I know their ages).

I tower over the diminutive Raven, and am barely an inch shorter than Beast Boy and Robin.

But trust me, when superheroes sit you down at one of those metal tables and stare you down, you all but pee your pants.

I got arrested once, for skulking around at a crime scene, which is a very big deal.

They threw some charges at me, but nothing stuck so they let me go.

Now imagine that, and then take in to account that this time, the facts are different:

a) The Titans are the GODS of Jump City. The superpowered, 'I can kill you with my pinky' gods.

b) I am a measly human compared to them.

c) Most importantly, I may or may not be hunted down and killed by a psycho metahuman.

Hence the witness protection program.

There's also some other people in the room- a girl with near-glowing white skin and an anarchist symbol carved into her chest.

A young dark skinned man uninterestedly flicking open a lighter until I realize the source of the flame is actually his finger.

Also, a young blond boy making frantic signals with his hands and an intimidating looking Hispanic woman- big- not as in fat, but as in big boned. Big muscled.

Cyborg, the largest of them all, walks over to me, towering over my head in a great mass of metallic cyberpunk armor.

He offers me a friendly grin, then gestures to the unfamiliar faces.

"These are your security detail until we catch this dude." he says.

He points them out.

"Argent, HotSpot, Pantha, and Jericho."

"You'll be staying with them in a safe house in a town some miles away from here," Robin says flatly.

And that's that.

* * *

Pantha hit the punching bag with a huge grunt, using her considerable bulk to tear it from the ceiling and flip it hard over her shoulder.

"Some job, eh, little one? Four of us, to protect this girl."

Joey, known by the superhero community as Jericho, shrugged his agreement, steadily pounding at his own bag.

Block, punch, jab, duck, a roundhouse that sent the punching bag spinning.

He finished shortly and smiled at the large wrestler.

_Could be worse_.

Pantha chuckled, giving him a hard pat on the back.

"Could be worse."

* * *

I actually kinda like this one. Toni and Isaiah are adorable together, Pantha is strangely funny, and Joey is, well...Joey. :)


	4. When we collide bad things happen

Crossover fic, with Raven/Aqualad, because they are my CRACK

Summary: When Fixit modifies a time machine to cross into alternate dimensions, the Teen Titans find themselves on Earth-16, home of Young Justice, where they become embroiled in an Atlantean-sized problem. And what is Garth's deal with Kaldur, anyway?

Deep in the recesses of the Fixit's lair, the android was bent deeply over a complicated machine, as if deeply frustrated at the unresponsiveness of the unit.

Above him, Cyborg, his armor glowing a metallic sheen, held a small, high powered pocket light, peering down into the convoluted wiring as well.

"This. is….irritating."

The low timbre of the half-human's chuckle resounded across the large cavern.

"Yeah, this kind of thing'll do that, man- you need any help?"

His companion made a mechanical shrug in response.

"I…do. not. know- Warp's design. is. difficult. to. alter."

Cyborg raised a curious brow and bent over to take a closer look at the wiring, before settling into a satisfied smile.

He gestured towards the machine.

"I can fix it, if you want- I've got some tools at home that can get at the problem- though, God knows why you need an alternate universe generator."

Fixit nodded his consent.

"It. is. a… pet. project."

"Something. that. humans. do. in. their. spare. time."

Cyborg bobbed his head, picking the time machine up with a Herculean grunt, and nestling it into the back of his car.

"Whatever, man- just don't, like, bring on the apocalypse or anything."

Blink.

"I. do. not. know. what. you. mean."

Back in the heart of the tower, Cyborg crouched studiously in the dim light of his room, outfitted with a jeweler's loup and wielding a tweezer and a soldering iron.

With Beast Boy away visiting the Doom Patrol, he had been incredibly bored for the past week- yes, Garth was here, but it wasn't quite the same, given the excessive fawning from both his female teammates- something kind of distracting when they were in the middle of beating the crap out of their digital avatars.

He mumbled softly to himself as he worked.

"That wire…no….Jeez…alright, steady…"

The metallic man gave a wide smile and set down the soldering iron.

"It's done."

His stomach gurgled suddenly, and he looked in surprise at the time, before heading upstairs to forage for food. He would bring the machine over to Fixit's later.

…Unbeknownst to him, the wires were warping under the heat of the iron.

I think I may finish this one.


End file.
